War Husband
by lilgirlost
Summary: In 1941, Kurt Hummel married Canadian soldier Finn Hudson, he never imagined that it would take him on a 6,000 mile journey across the Atlantic Ocean to Victoria, Canada. Now Kurt tries to make a new life in a strange land as he waits for Finn's return.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Glee doesn't belong to me, and if it did...I would treat the characters better.

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><p><em>Pale hands grasped at army issue clothes, pulling, pushing, tugging, trying to unwrap their prize; needing, wanting to feel the touch of skin on skin. His skin felt like it was fire, burning to touch, to feel the other man's skin against his own.<em>

_Hips, chests, and mouths fused together, neither knowing where one began and the other ended. Fumbling hands, legs parted, fingers seeking, questing for their ultimate goal. A small hiss, a murmured word, a soul-wrenching kiss as hands trailed across sweat-slick skin, memorizing dips and curves, scars and blemishes._

_One finger, then two and he was ready. A gentle push…a gentle slide, foreign hands tugging, pushing thighs higher, urging him to wrap his pale legs around his lover's waist. Finally, a hardness, unyielding, burning slightly, but the pleasure outweigh the pain. A quick jab and he was seeing stars, his lover thrusting into the hot, slick heat of his channel, hitting his special spot with every other thrust. He needed more, gripping shoulders tight, leaving bruises in his wake, urging his lover with whispered words, with moans of need. Thrusts increased, the sound of skin slapping against skin joined the moans and pants of desire in the air._

_Then whine filled the air, he was close, he needed a little more. Reaching down, he grabbed himself, stroking in time with his lover's thrusts…so very close. With one last stroke, he came, breathing his lover's name into the night air, shooting ribbons of cum across his belly as he clinch hard around his lover. Two quick thrusts and his lover was coming, he watched as the man came apart, filling his body with warmth._

_Hands reaching, he grabbed the man, pulling him down, cradling him with his legs and arms before he had the chance to collapse. As their hearts slowed, and sleep began to over take them, the man whispered, "I love you, my husband, my Finn."_

_"I love you too, Kurt." The soldier breathed out as he settled around his new husband._

**Chapter One**

_Summer 1943_

When he stepped off the steamship in Victoria's harbor, Kurt felt as though he was still moving, swaying with movement of the railcar as it ate the miles between Halifax and Vancouver. But at last he was almost at the end of his journey; in the span of two weeks, Kurt had said goodbye to his life, to his father in England and traveled almost six thousand miles to live with a complete stranger. Most would call it crazy, and one war bride did; she swore that she wasn't living England until her husband was home and he could take her to Canada himself. But Kurt knew that this opportunity wasn't one he was going let go; after all, it wasn't every day a government would voluntarily pay for the relocation of military spouses to their country.

Sighing to himself, Kurt retrieved his luggage from a bench before slowly walking through the crowded port, hoping to see a face that look familiar in someway. The dock was fairly large and reminded Kurt of the docks at Southampton, where his journey to Canada had begun. As Kurt walked along the platform, he stopped at the sound of voice calling his name.

Turning slightly on his heel, Kurt looked around him as he tried to place the direction the voice was coming from. After having decided that it was coming from the left of him, Kurt began to walk in that general direction, hoping he wasn't wrong and lucky he wasn't. As he rounded the corner of the covered boat dock, Kurt saw an older woman with short brown hair and he just knew that it was Finn's mother; they both had the same soft brown eyes and Kurt could see the makings of Finn's crooked smile on her lips.

Kurt took his steps slowly; he didn't really know how to approach this virtual stranger, who was now his mother-in-law. Fortunately for him, Finn's mother saved him the trouble. Once he was in arms reach of the older woman, Carole Hudson pulled him into a tight embrace. The young Englishman paused, taken back by the display of affection from the mother; but as Carole continued to hold him, Kurt slowly sunk into the embrace, returning it with one of his own, for it had been far too long since he had felt a mother's hug.

Carole was the first to let go, but left one hand on the small of Kurt's back where it had come to rest during their hug. Smiling to the young man, she grabbed Kurt's neglected luggage from the dock before he could stop her. Carole shook her head at Kurt, as she led him through the crowded dock.

"You've had a long journey; your case isn't that heavy, plus the car isn't that far. And neither is home." Carole smiled.

"How far is not far?" Kurt asked, even he could hear the weariness in his voice.

"A few miles, we live about a mile and a half outside of Victoria." Carole explain, "So not far at all, but I can image that even those few miles sounds like a lifetime to you." She finished, grinning to herself as though she had told a joke.

Kurt gave his mother-in-law a weak smile, tired from his long journey and a little frazzled from just being in her presence. This is not how he dreamed he would meet his mother-in-law, but then again he hadn't dreamed that he would meet the man he wanted to grow old with and marry all within the short period of six weeks. But it had happened, and Kurt wasn't going to change it for anything in the world.

As the pair reached the car, Carole gave a light tap on the small of Kurt's back before removing her hand. Kurt watched silently, shifting slightly on his tired legs, as Carole stowed his luggage in the backseat before moving to open the driver side door. Leaning across the bench seat, Carole pushed the door open for Kurt, indicating for him to get in. As he grasped the door handle, Kurt could feel the heat in his cheeks, slightly embarrassed at appearing to be dim in front of Carole. But once in the car, it seemed that Carole hadn't paid the small moment any notice and within minutes, the dark forest green saloon car was speeding down the street as fast as its engines would go. The drive from the harbor to the house was silent; Kurt watching through the window as the city blocks sped by, before giving way to tree-lined streets and densely populated homes. It was so much different than the death and devastation that Kurt had left behind in London, but even the wide open spaces and safety of being thousands of miles from the war didn't soothe Kurt's troubled mind. He was worried about Finn fighting in Europe; he was worried about his father, who had tried to continue business even with the dropping of German bombs. Shaking his head to clear these thoughts, Kurt turned his attention back to the scenery as it passed, because he knew that dwelling on those thoughts wasn't going to changed anything.

When the car got closer to its final destination, Carole began talking, her voice pulling Kurt from his thoughts and back into the present. "I know it isn't much, but I do understand what it's like to be a stranger in a strange land. Did Finn ever tell you how I meet his father?" With a shake of his head, Kurt prompted her to continue. "I was a nurse at a military hospital in Halifax when I met him. It was a few months after the end of the Great War, and Christopher was one the lucky few. He had come home, uninjured and with his sanity. He was visiting a friend in the ward, and when I saw him my heart stopped. It was then that I knew I wanted to marry this man. And I did…a month later."

Kurt giggled, his heart lightening at hearing that Carole's story was almost like his. "But how did you end up in British Columbia?"

"This is where he was from, and let's just say that my in-laws didn't like me very well, bordering on a strong dislike, especially from his mother, if I'm completely honest. But I followed Christopher back here," Carole said, "and he built this house with his own hands." Concluded just as the car stopped in front a quaint medium size bungalow painted a cheery yellow color.

Exiting the car, the young husband let his eyes wonder across the home and its features, with is slanted roofed porch and rock foundation. Kurt grabbed his case from the backseat before Carole could, which earned him a raised eyebrow from the smaller woman. Shrugging his shoulders in reply, Kurt followed the woman into the house, watching his step as he ascended the front stairs. Once inside, Kurt took a moment, spinning in a slow arch as he took in the interior of the quaint home.

Motioning for Kurt to set down his case, Carole led him through the home, pointing out the various rooms on the ground floor before returning to the living area and his suitcase. With Kurt's case in hand, Carole mounted the stairs, sure that her son-in-law would follow.

"The back bedroom is Finn's so I thought you might like to stay in that room." Carole told Kurt, but paused at the unreadable expression on the man's face. "Or you can the small guest room off the kitchen if that is better. Whatever you are comfortable with."

"Finn's room is fine. I'm sorry for seeming so ungrateful, but I'm still a frazzled by my journey."

Carole smiled kindly at the young man, "I understand, dear…all to well. Now there's the bathroom; I'm sure that you really want a bath after such a long journey. I'll be downstairs if you need me, so I'm going to let you get settled, and dinner is at six."

Kurt watched as Carole left, before kicking his case over and falling onto the bed. All he wanted to do was have a nice hot bath and sleep for the next sixty years. Rolling on his back, Kurt stared at the room's ceiling; he was feeling a little more at ease in this foreign house just by the intimacy of knowing that his husband once slept in this bed. With a sigh, Kurt hauled his tired body into a sitting position, before swinging his legs to the floor. Crouching next to his toppled luggage, Kurt clicked it opened, rummaging for his toiletries and his bathrobe. Once both were in hand, Kurt left the fairly good size bedroom, taking an immediate right into the bathroom with its claw-foot tub.

Forty minutes later, Kurt exited the bath, feeling clean and almost human again. Dropping his toiletries on the dresser by the door, Kurt shuffled toward the bed, falling onto its soft mattress once more. As he pulled the blankets around him, Kurt took a minute just nuzzling the pillow…Finn's pillow. It might not smell like the other man, but Kurt liked the idea that once the war was over, he would be sharing this pillow with Finn. Smiling to himself, Kurt drifted off to sleep for a well deserved nap.

It was half passed five when Kurt awoke to the sound of voices drifting up from the downstairs; throwing back the blankets, the young Englishman began to dress, picking out his best clothes of dark grey slacks, a white dress shirt, bluish-grey tie, and topped it all off with a navy blue jumper. After checking his reflection in the small mirror hanging above the dresser, Kurt left the bedroom, making his way down the stairs and into the living area. But at finding no one, Kurt followed the sound of voices coming from the direction of the kitchen.

Pushing the door open slightly, Kurt paused in the doorway, taking in the two young woman seated at the large kitchen table. One was dark where the other was light, but both women were dressed in the latest fashions, which Kurt was envious of. At seeing the man, Carole waved him into the kitchen, motioning for him to take a seat in an open chair. The young Englishman smiled at the welcoming manner of his mother-in-law as he slid behind the table.

"Did you have a good nap?" Carole asked, as she worked on kneading the dough to make biscuits for dinner.

"Yes, thank you." Kurt replied, although he wasn't looking in their direction, he could feel their eyes as the two young women sized him up. Kurt had met their type before, they saw him as competition; but Kurt wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him flinch at the scrutiny of their gaze.

"Oh, sorry, where are my manners. Kurt, let me introduce you to Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray," Carole said, indicating to each woman in turn. "They went to school with Finn."

Kurt smiled as he held out his hand for each of the girls to shake. Rachel Berry, the darker haired woman, grasped his hand politely; as for Quinn Fabray though, she looked at the hand as though it belonged to a leper, but shook it anyway. Flipping her hair to the side, Quinn turned her attention back to Carole.

"Do you need any help, Mrs. Hudson?" The blonde asked. Kurt raised an eyebrow at the sound of the sugary sweet voice she used when talking to the older woman, and had to stifle a chuckle at Rachel rolling her eyes in response to the voice.

"No dear. I wouldn't want to ruin your pretty nail polish."

"Quinn, since when do you know how to bake?" Rachel questioned, earning herself a sharp glare from the blonde. "I thought your cook did all of that. After all, your mother made it point to let everyone in town know that her daughter was the prefect well-bred lady, who didn't know the meaning of the word 'manual labor'."

Carole cleared her throat, letting both girls know that they behavior wasn't wanted or needed…Ever. Quinn smiled sweetly at Carole before focusing her attention on Kurt.

"So, Kurt was it?" Quinn asked, not waiting for his reply before continuing with, "Were the bombings as bad as the papers are claiming?"

Kurt looked at her, flinching slightly at the question; she had hit a nerve and it hurt. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, Carole cut him off with a sharp reprimand leveled at the young blonde. "You're out of line, Quinn. And I do believe its time for you to be getting home to your mother."

Pushing back her chair, Quinn stood, murmuring a quick 'goodbye' as she fled the kitchen. Carole Hudson was not a woman to cross—she was fiercely loyal to her family, even if that family was a virtual stranger to her.

Waiting a moment, Rachel stood as well, gathering her purse as she did so. "It was wonderful to meet you, Kurt. But I must be on my way as well; my grandmother is in town for the weekend, and dad said I needed to be home in time for dinner."

Sighing to herself once the kitchen was cleared of her guests; she sank into the nearest chair and grasped Kurt's hand in her own. "I had no idea that either one of them would show up, or that Quinn would act like that; but I should have expected it. Those girls have been chasing and vying for Finn's attention and affection since grammar school. Finn has always had a soft spot for them, it's his nature; but as they got older, their affection for him grew while his had diminished and he just never had the heart to them 'no, he didn't love them in that way'. Finn had honestly hoped that when he volunteered for service, the girls would back off and realize they would be spending their youth waiting on him. Unfortunately, he was wrong, and each one had fully expected a marriage proposal and a wedding before Finn had left for England.

And now they see you as competition for Finn's affections…a thief, really. And if there is one thing I know about both of those girls, they have always gotten their way…their parents have seen to it."

"But not this time," Kurt remarked with a smile at Carole, "Finn married me, so I've won the war—a war which I didn't even know I was fighting."

Carole laughed at Kurt's comment; the more she spoke with the young man, the more she understood why her son had married him. He was beautiful (and if she had been twenty years younger, she might have been tempted to try for him), smart, witty and had a wonderful sense of humor.

"That you have, and I couldn't be happier. Now, do you know how to bake?" Carole asked, rising from her seat to finish kneading the dough.

"Yes. And I know how to cook, sew, and repair automobiles." Kurt answered proudly. At seeing Carole's shocked face, he explained. "My mother was ill for a lot of my childhood and she taught me cooking, baking and sewing, so that my dad and I would be alright, once she was gone. As for the auto repair, my dad makes his living as a mechanic. He owns a small garage in London, and we lived in a flat not far from it."

"I'm sorry for your loss, it must have been hard loosing your mother so young," Carole said, squeezing Kurt's shoulder in sympathy. "If you ever feel the need to sew, though, we have a machine in the spare bedroom behind the dining room." She added, steering the conversation away from the sad memories.

Kurt nodded his head, before deciding to join Carole in baking. As the pair worked, they talked, trading stories back and forth—about each other, about Finn and about the differences between living in Canada and England. Eventually dinner was ready and as they sat down to eat, a knocked sounded at the backdoor.

Rolling her eyes as she pushed her chair back from the table, Carole stood up to answer it. "Blaine, you do know what time it is? A time when normal people usually sit down to eat."

The man, apparently known as Blaine, grinned at Carole, clearly unfazed by the tone of her voice. "Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I just wanted to drop off your grocery order."

"Uh huh." Carole replied; her face showing that she didn't believe his story in the slightest. "Are you sure that you didn't drive out here to meet Finn's husband, for I'm sure that Rachel and Quinn have already told the town everything."

Blaine bit his lip, "Rachel might have come into the store and I might have overheard her talking to my cousin, Brittany."

Sighing to herself, she opened the door wider to let the younger man in. "Well, you're here now. Come in, I can't really send you away without dinner."

Upon entering the warm kitchen with his box of goods, Blaine smiled at the sight of Kurt sitting at the food covered tabletop. After placing his burden on the counter, he joined the other young man at the table; but not before grabbing a plate from an overhead cabinet, a task which Kurt thought looked very natural, almost as though this man had done it countless times before.

"Oh this looks great, Mrs. Hudson." Blaine commented, shoveling food on his plate as if he hadn't been feed in years. Carole affectionately rolled her eyes at the boy, retaking her seat at the table.

"Actually, Kurt helped with some of dinner. He's a very good baker." Kurt blushed lightly at the praise from his mother-in-law. "Kurt, this is Blaine Anderson. His father owns the general store in town, and doubles as an attorney as needed. If you can't tell, Blaine is almost like another son, practically raised him along side of Finn, well along with Noah too."

"Puckerman?" Kurt prompted.

"Yes," Carole responded, "did you meet him?"

"Yes, I had the pleasure, if you could call it that." Kurt said, frowning at Carole.

Carole laughed at the statement, "Sounds about right then."

"So, Rachel says you're from London." Blaine broke in, wanting to know as much as he could about this man. Just from his looks, Blaine could see why Finn had married the other man. And even if Kurt was a married man, there was nothing wrong with being friendly to a friend's husband, providing an ear or a shoulder if needed.

"Yes. Hammersmith, actually, it's a borough of London."

Blaine nodded at Kurt's clarification, before voicing his next question. "How was your trip here?"

"Uneventful and long…very long; but I'm here now and happy to be." Kurt replied, giving Carole a warm smile as he finished. Carole returned the smile with one of her own, as she motioned for the pair to eat.

The dinner continued, with Blaine asking twenty questions, and Kurt answering them as best he could, while Carole interrupted every so often—scolding Blaine about letting Kurt breathe and eat his dinner in peace. Kurt smiled good-naturally at Blaine, thinking the other man was charming in his enthusiasm to know him; but even that charm would never hold a candle to Finn. Eventually, dinner ended with Carole all but throwing Blaine out of the house—with the tip of his imaginary hat, Blaine left the way he came, through the backdoor.

Kurt helped Carole clear the table before giving her a light kiss on the cheek as he left the kitchen. They both froze, and Kurt's cheeks heated slightly, worried that he might have overstepped his bounds. After a few seconds of frozen silence, Carole broke the awkwardness by pulling the young man into a hug and laying a kiss upon his flushed cheek. Kurt chuckled as he returned the hug, before releasing the mother, who began shooing Kurt towards the living room and up the stairs—mumbling about it being late and them both needing rest after such a long day of traveling and surprise visitors.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

In the weeks which followed, the pair fell into an easy sort of companionship. In the mornings, they would take turns making breakfast, before Carole left for her job as a nurse at Victoria's lone hospital. And Kurt spent his days wondering through Victoria's downtown, taking in the sights of its people, shops, and the general atmosphere of the Canadian seaport. Some of the people would look at him strange, as though they knew who he was—which they probably did. It was through his budding friendship with Blaine that Kurt was learning the ends and outs of the town rumor mill, and it seemed that either Quinn or Rachel was at the center of almost every story told. But the young Englishman chose to ignore the looks and the rumors; it didn't matter what these people—these strangers—thought of him all that matter were the thoughts of Carole and Finn Hudson—his new family.

As he entered Anderson's General Store, Kurt received a wave from Blaine's very friendly if slightly dimwitted cousin, Brittany, who worked behind the counter. In the last weeks, Kurt had come to like the girl just as much as he liked her cousin. She was easy to talk to, and didn't seem to have any underlining hostility towards him, which was always a plus in Kurt's book. Gazing through the shelves, Kurt began to stock his wicker basket with various odds and ends needed for the household. As he worked, Kurt's eye keep drifting to the bolts of fabric, thinking about what he could make with the material; according to Blaine, Carole's birthday was fast approaching and Kurt's mind had immediately gone to making something for his mother-in-law.

With his shopping complete, Kurt pulled his ration book from the bottom of his basket as he approached the counter. Brittany greeted him with a smile, as Kurt handed over the stamps needed to receive the rationed products, which Brittany was happy to give.

"I miss Finn. He used to make me laugh." Brittany commented out of the blue, startling Kurt slightly. Finn, in general, wasn't usually a topic discussed even with Carole—mentioning him was an unspoken rule of the house…to hard, to painful for pair since the decrease in the amount of letters received from the young soldier.

"Me too. But hopefully this war will be over soon." Kurt agreed, smiling sadly at the young blonde.

"And then Finn will be home, and you can have pretty carrier babies." Brittany added, "But Quinn said that you probably can't have babies; otherwise, you would have had a baby already when you arrived." Kurt frowned at Brittany's statement, narrowing his eyes as his mind conjured nasty thoughts about the jealous socialite.

In the weeks since meeting the socialite and the unusually loud Jewish girl, Rachel's jealousy towards him had diminished, allowing them to form an attentive—uneasy—friendship; but the anger and the jealousy which Quinn felt toward him had risen to the point of outright aggression.

At present, the blonde was spreading a malicious rumor about him, involving him having been a burlesque dancer in a seedy underground club in London, who had lured Finn in with his _charm_. Kurt had rolled his eyes at the rumor, burlesque halls hadn't existed in England since the 1890s, it was so passé, Blaine had a good laugh over it, and Carole had mumbled darkly under her breath about self-important blondes needing a good swift kick in their backsides. However, the damage had been done; Quinn's father had money, and money talked, so the town had believed her fabricated stories, over the truth.

But unlike the earlier rumors and snide comments, this remark cut Kurt to the quick. It was one thing to dream up stories about his life in England; it was whole different matter to make mean-spirited statements about his ability to have children.

Blinking back the tears in his eyes, Kurt gave Brittany a bright smile—if fake smile—as he pointed to a bolt of light blue cotton fabric. "Brittany, could I have a yard and a half of that fabric and another yard of the pale yellow?"

"Sure, Kurt." The girl replied, walking away to complete his order. As Kurt waited for Brittany, he watched as some of the other patrons wondered about the store—feeling the secret little looks being sent in his direction. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime, Brittany returned with the fabric all wrapped up in paper for Kurt to take home. With a kind word and smile, Kurt bid goodbye to Brittany and left.

Normally, Kurt took the walk home slow—but not this time—he sped up his steps, needing to get home before he completely lost it—just like he had lost Finn's child and he hadn't even known he was pregnant until the miscarriage. Kurt had cried at the loss of the baby, cried because of the guilt because he was never going to tell Finn that he had failed at protecting their baby, and all through it, his dad had held him and tried to soothe his broken heart. While Kurt loved his dad, Burt Hummel hadn't been who he wanted; the young Englishman had wanted his husband and he couldn't have him because the Canadian was off fighting in a war—all due to a greedy little German with a bad moustache, who wanted to rule all of Europe instead of just Germany.

When Kurt finally reached home, he quickly put away the items in their proper place, before going up to his room. Laying the wrapped fabric on the dresser, Kurt left his shoes by the bed as he crawled under the warm blankets. Kurt turned on his side as he brought his knees into his chest, curling around them. The tears were slow to come but once they started Kurt couldn't stop them; the renewed pain of loosing Finn's baby washed over him, stealing the breath from him as he sobbed at the unfairness of it all. After he was all cried out, exhaustion pulled him into an uneasy sleep, which is how Carole found him when she returned home from work.

The house was quiet—deathly quiet—a silence that Carole hadn't experienced since Kurt had arrived. Prior to the man's appearance, Carole would come home to a soundless house to cook a dinner for one; now, she would enter to the sound of the radio, Kurt humming along to it, and the faint noise of him starting dinner. The new noises were pleasant, making Carole feel content for the first time since Finn had left.

After the death of Christopher, she had clung to her son—for he was all she left—; then Finn had left for war and Carole was left with no one to care for. But now, she had Kurt—her son's husband—a man, who needed her as much as she needed him. They were both clinging to the memory of a boy they loved and praying all the while he would be returned safe to them.

Leaving her purse on the small table by the door, Carole slipped up the stairs to look for the younger man. She knocked gently on his door; then pushed it open, revealing a sight which broke her heart in the process. In the dying light of the afternoon sun, Carole could see the faint tear tracks on the man's cheeks; her son-in-law was hurting and these rumors had to stop.

Quinn Fabray had made it her mission to destroy this boy with her words, and it would seem that Kurt had finally reached his breaking point. Her son's husband was strong—mentally, physically, and emotionally—Carole knew this, but she also knew that he had to be, to survive the continuous devastation of his home. In London, he had known who the enemy was; yet, in Victoria, the enemy could be anyone, even the postman delivering the mail.

Deciding to give comfort where it was needed, Carole sank onto the bed next at the Englishman's feet, gently nudging his leg in an attempt to wake him; she waited a few seconds then tried again. It was after the third time that Carole could see the flutter of Kurt's eyes as he brought himself out of sleep. Carole smiled as she watched Kurt balled his fist, using it to rubbed his eyes with; the act reminded Carole of Finn as a child, when he would trudge down the stairs half asleep looking for his oatmeal—clutching his baby blanket.

Once Kurt was alert, Carole leaned over and placed a warm, dry kiss on the man's forehead, brushing his usually immaculate bangs from his eyes. Kurt watched her through hooded eyes; his emotions were raw and all he wanted to do was run, run back to England and his father's arms as fast as he could. But there was a certain kindness and quiet sympathy in Carole's eyes that made Kurt willing to hear what she had to say, if anything.

Carole nudged Kurt over so she could crawl onto the bed with him, settling next to him against the headboard; grasping his right hand in her left, she tucked him close to her. At realizing what she was doing, Kurt laid his head upon her shoulder, taking comfort from her warmth and the smell of her flowery perfume as he breathed.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Carole gently asked; her question might as well have been whispered for how low her voice was. The woman knew to tread lightly, so as to not spook the young man.

Kurt hesitated for the moment, trying to decide if he should tell her the truth, however the second his brain thought of what the jealousy-fueled socialite had said, the truth poured from his mouth in gasping sobs and broken sentences. And through it all, Carole weathered the emotional storm, holding the man close and murmuring nonsensical words in his ear, trying to soothe the man with her sound of her voice, and not with the words themselves. The words didn't matter; the words weren't what this man needed to hear; he just needed to know that someone cared, that someone loved him through all of his pain. Once Kurt's tears had lessened to nothing more than a few hiccupping sobs, Carole pulled back from him, taking in his red nose, glassy eyes and wrecked cheeks. She tried not to smile at the image, because even at his worst, Kurt Hudson was beautiful. And she couldn't help but thank the lord everyday that her son was smart enough to not let this man go.

Pulling out a handkerchief she kept in her pocket, Carole handed it to Kurt, to use for drying his eyes and blowing his reddened nose. When he deemed his face presentable once more, the Englishman laid the small piece of fabric on the nightstand, mentally reminding himself he needed to wash it before returning it to Carole. Focusing his attention back on Carole, he met her eyes with a broken smile, all the while trying to keep his tears at bay. He had spent most of the day crying, and he knew that his eyes were puffy and could already feel the beginnings of a headache.

"Nothing can lessen the pain of losing a child, because the want of that child was there, no matter how brief. And I hate that you had to go through it, that you had to experience that kind of pain when you should have been experiencing the joy of being pregnant, daydreaming of a future with that little one." Carole said, pulling Kurt back into her arms. Kurt went willing, for he wanted the comfort that Carole was offering—not just needing it.

In the few short weeks of since his arrival, Kurt had grown to love Finn's mother like his own. It was by living in this house that Kurt realized how much he truly missed having a mother. Don't misunderstand him, he loved his dad, but there were just some things that only a mother's love, a mother's arms could fix. The pair stayed in each other's embrace for a long time, each taking comfort for the other.

The bedroom was silent, save for the barely detectable sound of their breathing, or at least it was until the utterance of Carole broke the silence. "Quinn Fabray is cold-hearted bitch." Kurt's eyes widened momentarily at Carole's use of profanities, but didn't say anything, for he agreed with the woman.

Pulling back one last time, Carole left her hands on Kurt's shoulders as she looked him in the eye one last time, "I have a pie chilling in the icebox, which we can warm in the oven. So let's forgo dinner and instead have dessert in the living room as we listen to the radio."

Kurt gave a weak smile at the idea, nodding his head in agreement. With a pat on his shoulder, Carole stood, walking towards the door. "I'll see you downstairs in thirty minutes; I'd like to get changed and figured you might want a clean your face a little."

An hour later found the paired curled up on the loveseat as the newest murder mystery unfolded; the pie pan lay forgotten and half devoured on the coffee table, along with two empty plates and two half-filled coffee mugs. When she reached forward to grab her mug, Carole couldn't help but notice that Kurt was fast asleep, his head tucked into his chest. Moving quietly, Carole cleaned the coffee table of all its dishes; as she passed back into the living room, she grabbed a knitted blanket off her husband's chair for Kurt. With a flick of her wrist, she draped it over the young man placing a light kiss on his forehead once she was satisfied he would stay warm. After all the lights were off and the front door was locked, Carole mounted the stairs and disappeared into her bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The rest of the summer passed uneventfully for Kurt at least, the same couldn't be said for Quinn Fabray, especially not after the news broke—a few weeks after Kurt's breakdown—she was pregnant out of wedlock and refusing to name the father, which had induced an hysterical fit of laughter in Kurt. He knew that it was wrong to find joy in the misery of others, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. She had told her lies, and in a way, gotten what she had deserved. The Fabrays had intended to cover the whole thing up, but unfortunately one of the upstairs maids had overheard and told a friend, and thus by the next evening the whole town was buzzing about it. After all, it wasn't every day that an uppity socialite became an unwed mother.

Chuckling to himself at the memory, Kurt turned the page of his fashion magazine as he listened to Rachel gossip about the latest scandal connected to Quinn's pregnancy.

"So according to Suzie, the Fabrays' maid, Quinn is still refusing to name the father and Mr. Fabray is furious. The household staff is wondering if he's going to turn her out, for it seems to be his favorite threat at the moment. But nobody thinks he will, he might not like the pregnancy, but everyone knows he loves his daughter, no matter how horrid she might be to everyone."

Just as Kurt opened his mouth to respond, Blaine flew into the kitchen, the backdoors' screen slamming loudly against its frame in his wake.

"Kurt, Kurt. You know how to fix cars right. Please say that I'm right, otherwise, my dad is going to kill me, and I don't want to die." Blaine asked in a rush, the words tripping and tangling together on his tongue.

"Yes…." Kurt drawled, suspicion oozing from his mouth, "Why?"

"My dad's car stalled about half a mile back, and I had to run all the way here. And I know that I'm not out of petrol, because we just filled the tank two days ago. And dear god, I don't want him to kill me. He loves that car more than me, I think."

Kurt shook his head as he rolled his eyes at his excitable friend. Blaine had the flare for the dramatic, and it always seemed to bring a smile to Kurt's face. "Well come on. Take me to your car." Pausing at the door, Kurt turned at looked at Rachel, "Coming love?"

Rachel tilted her head to the side for a minute before jerking her head down sharply; picking up her purse from the table and her light jacket from the chair, Rachel followed the two men out of the house and out onto the road.

The walk was short, maybe fifteen minutes, twenty at the most if Kurt had bothered to look at his watch, but he hadn't. As the trio meander down the road, Blaine tried to explain to Kurt what exactly he had been doing when the car had died. Kurt nodded his head every so often, making little notes in his head to check certain things, and Rachel simply enjoyed the scenery.

The air was crisp; the leaves were just starting to change as summer gave way to fall. Kurt liked this kind of weather best; it wasn't too hot or too cold, it was just right for long midnight strolls—enjoying the stars without the light and smog pollution of London; a stroll which he hoped to be able to share with Finn one day. Kurt smiled faintly to himself as he let his mind wonder to all the things he wanted to do with his husband one day.

When they finally reached the car, Kurt quickly opened the bonnet, checking everything that could possibly be wrong with the engine. And after a few minutes, he found the problem, which wasn't too worrisome to fix—the part was inexpensive to purchase and most garages usually carried the part. Dusting his hands off, Kurt closed the bonnet, then turned to look at Blaine, who had spent the whole examination of the automobile bouncing on the balls of his feet and chewing on his bottom lip.

"Nothing too dire; we can probably push the car back to Carole's, and I can go by one of the garages in the morning and see if they have the part." Kurt told Blaine, smiling as he watched relief uncurl the tension in the other man's face.

Looking at Rachel, Kurt opened the door and motioned for her to get into the vehicle, which earned him a raised eyebrow from the woman. "Blaine and I will push, you need to steer, wouldn't want it to end up in a ditch."

Within minutes, everyone was in their proper place and Blaine and Kurt set off on pushing the auto back to Carole's—at least with it parked in from of the house, it would be safe until morning (unlike if they left it on the side of the road). The trip back to the house was slower on the way back, but Kurt blamed that on Rachel's apparent ability at not being able to steer the vehicle in a straight line.

"You do know how to drive, right?" Kurt asked, huffing with a force that caused his bangs to become airborne momentarily.

"Yes. My dad taught me, and I drive all the time. It's just feels weird not really driving this car." Rachel explained, leaning her out the window so she could look at Kurt as she talked. Rolling his eyes at her, Kurt began to push again, choosing not to reply, least he say something he would later regret to the woman.

Finally, after what seemed like half of Kurt's life to the young man, the trio and the vehicle arrived safely and in one piece at Carole's. Smiling to himself, Kurt patted the boot of the care with his hand before walking towards the house. Rachel and Blaine followed, both needing to clean their hands of the dirt and grim that they had picked up on the road.

Once they were all presentable again, they wondered out onto the front porch to enjoy the warm fall breeze and sip their cold drinks. The three friends fell into easy conversation, which mainly consisted of Kurt and Rachel teasing Blaine about how worried and fearful he had looked at the thought of having broken his father's car, and the man took it all in good humor—happy that Kurt would be able to fix it in the morning and his dad wouldn't kill him—so a win-win in Blaine's book.

The sun was just beginning to set when an unknown man on a bicycle stopped in front of the house. Even if most didn't know the man's name, most knew who he was just by his uniform—he was the man you never wanted to approach your house. He was the bringer of death, of notifications of whether your son, brother, husband was died or simply missing in action. Rachel let out a gasp as Blaine grabbed Kurt's arm to steady the young man as the stranger approached.

Standing slowly, Kurt stumbled down the stairs and the pathway, meeting the deliveryman half way. With a sympathetic look on his face, he handed over the telegram before beating a hasty retreat to his bike. In moments, Rachel and Blaine descended upon Kurt, surrounding him as they helped guide him back toward the porch to sit.

As he sunk onto the porch stairs, Kurt felt numb; the words written on this one little piece of paper was going to change his whole life—it was going to tell him if he was a widower or if simply the Canadian army had managed to lose Finn's location. Taking a deep breathe, Kurt ripped into the envelope, not caring if he gave himself paper cuts in the process. Once opened, he grasped the telegram and pulled, needing to know what was written, needing to know the status of Finn.

Rachel and Blaine watched in silence as Kurt's eyes scanned over the telegram, waiting with baited breathe for him to let them know what it said. But for Kurt, he was having trouble reading the piece of paper, the words were fuzzy and unfocused due to unshed tears and even as he read the telegram again and again, it seemed as though his brain couldn't quite understand what he was reading. However, as fast as the confusion appeared, it ended and Kurt let out a cry of relief at finally realizing what they message was saying.

At the sound of the cry, Rachel and Blaine cuddled closer to their friend, not knowing if it was good cry or a bad cry. But Rachel wondered if there was such a thing as a good cry, when it came to the military in a time of war.

"My father had seen him." Kurt exclaimed, meeting Rachel's and Blaine's confused faces with a beaming smile. "According to this, Finn's regiment had been sent back to base, briefly and Finn took leave to see my dad. Dad says he looked alright, a little tired but in general good spirits. And all Finn could talk about was me, asking dad questions and what not. Apparently he hasn't been getting all of my letters."

Rachel hugged Kurt, and then plucked the telegram from Kurt's fingers to read for herself. Kurt let it go without a fight, he was in a good mood and nothing could make him mad right now. Blaine squeezed Kurt's arm, trying to convey how happy he was for the other man.

And this is how Carole found them, minutes later as she exited a car. With a wave of her hand, she bid goodbye to her carpool group, and began walking up her pathway. As she neared the front steps, Kurt broke away from Rachel and Blaine and flew down the path, grabbing her into a hug. "Finn's okay. My dad has seen him, and he misses us so much." Kurt said, speaking directly into Carole's ear.

As soon as she registered what Kurt had said, Carole gripped at the young man, mumbling 'thank god' over and over to whoever could hear her. Even though, they both sent and received letters from Finn, the post was slower, slower than when Kurt had been in London. And anything could happen in the weeks between letters.

Grabbing Carole's hand in his own, Kurt released the woman from his hug before tugging her towards the porch and the telegram, so she could read it. As she settled on the porch, Blaine handed over the message for Carole and with a tilt of his head, he motioned to Rachel that he and she should really take their leave. Rachel nodded in understanding as she stood, brushing imaginary dirt from her dress. Blaine and Rachel bid their goodbyes to the seemingly distracted pair, who continued to pour over the telegram in Carole's hands. As Blaine and Rachel looked at each other, they shrugged with fond smiles on their faces. Finn was their friend, but the love they had for the man wasn't the kind that Kurt and Carole felt. Carole's was a mother's love that nothing could match, and Kurt's love was the slow-burning kind, with a hint of quiet desperation at the thought of loosing his husband before he even got to really know him.

Walking arm and arm down the path, the pair got into Rachel's car. She lived in town, so she could take Blaine home before going home herself. But Blaine knew that she wouldn't, or at least not just yet. Not many people knew, but in the years since Noah Puckerman had left for war, Rachel had begun to visit his mother and sister, offering to sit with Noah's sister Sarah, in the evenings while their mother worked at one of the local factories. Blaine thought it was sweet, and it gave something for Rachel to do. Opening the driver side door, Blaine ushered the young woman behind the wheel before going around to the passenger side and getting in.

As Blaine and Rachel drove away, Carole and Kurt continued to hold onto each other, taking turns in rereading the telegram over and over again. Even though it wasn't much of a message, it meant the world to them. Eventually, Kurt broke the spell that tiny piece of paper had placed them under. Wiping at his eyes, Kurt tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear before nudging Carole in the shoulder. The older woman gave Kurt a look of confusion before she realized that Rachel and Blaine were no longer around. Chuckling lightly, she grabbed Kurt's hand as she stood, pulling him up as she towed him into the house.


	4. Interlude

**Author's Notes: **I just wanted to give a big thank you to everyone that has continued to read this, and an even bigger one to all of those of you who have taken the time to review. Your words mean a lot and I appreciate them. Thanks!

Also, sorry this a small part and I meant to have it up ages ago, but my computer had to go be repaired and that was...something. :)**  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Interlude<strong>

The walk to the Mr. Harley's garage wasn't that far from Anderson's Grocer; although with Blaine in tow the walk seemed a thousand times longer. Kurt liked Blaine, but sometimes the other man got on his nerves and today was one of those days. Kurt's day had started out pretty well; he had fixed Carole breakfast, and then wondered into town to meet Blaine, so they could go see about the part for his dad's automobile. However, in the time between when Kurt had met Blaine and the time it had taken them to get to the garage, Blaine had managed to regale Kurt with everything that had happened in the Anderson household last night, including the man's conversation with his father concerning the car. Rolling the eyes, Kurt prayed to anyone who was listening for patience; but instead of patience, the heavens bestowed him with the garage being in sight. Kurt lengthened his stride, trying to reach the shop before he gave into temptation and strangled his dark headed friend.

As the pair approached, a burly man in greased stained coveralls pulled his head out from under the hood of a 1936 Dodge sedan he was repairing. Wiping his hands on a rag, he watched with hooded eyes as the two men drew near.

"I need a part for a 1939 Buick engine." Kurt told the man, not pausing to make pleasantries.

"I got it in stock but it's going to cost you." The garage owner replied; his voice was gruff from disuse and Kurt had half expected it, mechanics usually didn't spend a lot of time talking

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the man, wondering if the mechanic thought he was an idiot and automobile parts were free and fell from the sky. "Blaine can afford it."

"That may be so, but who's going to put it on." The mechanic retorted.

"I am…been fixing autos since I was small. My dad's a mechanic, taught me everything he knew." Kurt said, drawing himself up to his full height as the mechanic gave him the once over.

"You're that carrier who married the Hudson boy."

Kurt narrowed his eyes slightly at the use of the word _carrier_, just because he was one didn't mean that he wanted to be called one, "If by carrier you mean Englishman than yes I am." Kurt replied, his voice oozing with a patronizing tones.

"Alright Mr. Harley. If we could get that part, I would really appreciate it." Blaine interrupted, attempting to steer the conversation back to the important matter at hand.

Mr. Harley ignored the dark haired man; his attention was still focus on the man holding his gaze, not flinching under the scrutiny of mechanic's eyes. As the older man gave Kurt another once over, he brought his hand up to scratch at his chin before speaking again. "How would you like a part time job? One of my mechanics just left for the army last week and I could use another set of hands around the garage. What do you say?"

Kurt blinked at the question. He hadn't expected a job offer, but he could use the extra money. Even though he received Finn's military pay, he felt obligated to share half with Carole, since she was providing a roof over his head and a majority of the food that wasn't being rationed. Nodding his head slightly as he stuck out his hand, Kurt replied, "It's a deal."

Mr. Harley grasped the offered hand, giving it a quick but firm squeeze before releasing it. Although before he could even open his mouth to discuss wages, Blaine opened his mouth again asking, "Now about my dad's car?"

While he glared at the over-enthusiastic man, Mr. Harley grumbled, "Alright, alright. Hold you're horses, boy. I'll go get it now."

Blaine beamed at the older man's retreating back, happy to having finally been listened to. Swinging his smiling face towards Kurt, Blaine started to open his mouth again, but Kurt stopped with a firm hand covering his mouth.

"If you wish to live and have your dad's auto fixed by end of the day, you'll stop talking now." Kurt all but growled at the other man.

The almost growl caused Blaine's eyebrow to shoot up in response, which Kurt noticed. At seeing the slightly fearful look in his friend's eyes, Kurt explained. "I have a headache and I need just a little piece and quiet right now. It's nothing that you've done."

Blaine nodded his head in agreement to the request, earning a small smile from Kurt as the man's eyes filled with a sort of relief. Once his mouth was free again, Blaine smiled at the other man as he laid his hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze in understanding.

Eventually, Mr. Harley returned from the garage with the part needed and Blaine paid the man. Kurt grabbed the item and placed it into the box he had brought along for just such a use. With the part safely tucked away in its new temporary home, Kurt shoved the box into Blaine's arms. As he turned on his heel to leave, Kurt gave Mr. Harley a final handshake and promise that he would be back around in a few days to handle all the finer details. The older man shook his head in agreement and sent the two men off with a small jerk of his hand then buried his head back into the car he had been previously working on.


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: **Sorry for the latest, but my laptop is back in the shop for the second time in a month, for the same stupid issue. But I want to give a personal thank you to: **wordsarebinding, ****Crimson Glory Kai, ****Azrael Blood, ****ampersandandink, ****godivaraphael, ****Atsu Tenshi, ****kyubifreak. ****gleek-lw **for taking the time to read and review.

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

If Kurt thought winters in London had been bad, winters in Victoria were downright unbearable—especially when one took into account the frigid winds swiping through the city off the coast of the Strait of Georgia. Bundling up in his heaviest winter coat—an early Christmas gift from Carole—Kurt slowly made his way into town. As it stood, the snow wasn't too bad; but it hadn't exactly melted since the last winter storm. And yet the heavens hadn't felt the need to dump more cold white fluff upon the sleepy city.

As he pushed opened the door of Anderson's General Store, Kurt could make out the faint outline of Quinn Fabray, through the door's frosted glass. Pasting an overly fake smile on his face, Kurt approached the young woman, deciding to be at least cordial to the young mother-to-be. In the months since her pregnancy had become public knowledge, Quinn—and to a lesser extent Kurt—had tried to avoid each other, even going as far as crossing to the opposite side of the street so as to not accidentally bumped into each other.

The young blonde knew that she had been vindictive in her treatment of the Englishman; it wasn't his fault that Finn had all but broken her heart. Finn had been her first love, and she had assumed that she had been his; after all, she knew she was far prettier than Rachel Berry could ever hope. And yet, it turned out that Finn hadn't wanted either girl, and he had allowed them to continue to flirt with the idea of marriage because he just hadn't the heart to tell them, 'I'm not interested.' She should have been angry at Finn; instead, she had turned her anger at being mistreated on an innocent man, whose only crime was marrying the man he loved.

At the sound of the shop's door, Quinn glanced up, catching the eye of Kurt as he entered. Consciously, she smoothed down the skirt of her maternity dress, in an attempt to give her trembling hands something to do. Her nerves were frazzled from just being in the same room as the man. Although, she knew the young carrier wouldn't have said anything intentionally hurtful; but knowing that with just one misspoken sentence could—and probably would—send her pregnancy-induced emotions spiraling out of control, and Quinn wasn't going to let that happen. She was going to have a good day; for after much pleading with her mother, Quinn had finally been allowed to live the house in the company of a maid to do a little Christmas shopping.

Kurt stared at Quinn as he debated whether or not he should approach the woman. While she had been vicious to him, his dad had instilled good values in him—one of which being turned the other cheek. He needed to show this woman that he was so better than her, and to do that by not playing into her games and stooping to her level. Pushing his bangs into place, Kurt stuck out his chin and fixed a smile on his face as he walked towards the young woman. He was going to be gracious and courtesy to the blonde, and he silently dared her to find fault in his manners.

"Hullo, Quinn. How are you?" Kurt greeted the young mother-to-be, keeping his voice polite and even as he spoke. "I haven't seen you much around town."

Quinn returned the smile with a faint one before licking her lips in a nervous gesture. "I'm fine. My mother worries about me, so she thought it best if I didn't leave the house as often as I once was."

Kurt might have nodded in understanding to Mrs. Fabray's worry, but it didn't stop his mind from making note of how Quinn had avoided mentioning her pregnancy—leaving the delicate matter twisting and blowing in the air between them. "Oh. Well mothers do like to worry so. Are you doing your Christmas shopping?"

Quinn smiled at the Englishman, feeling a little more at ease that he wasn't going to sling a barbed word attack on her. "Yes. I have most of it finished, but I can't figure out what to get my older sister, Frannie; she lives in Seattle with her husband."

"Well…what are her likes?" Kurt questioned, reaching out for Quinn's elbow as he turned her around and walked them both towards the shelving at the back of the store. The store might have been small; but the Anderson's knew how to stock their store with quality items, and Kurt was banking that the store had a suitable gift for Quinn's sister.

"She likes to paint and draw." Quinn said with a laugh. "When we were little, mom hired an art student from the University to come and teach us. I was atrocious at it; but Frannie had talent."

Kurt grinned at the story, picturing a small Quinn drawing stick figures and strangely limbed creatures and calling them people. "Does she still paint?"

"Probably not in a while." The blonde replied, frowning slightly. "She married into a good Seattle family, and all her letters seem to do is talk about the next party or the next benefit she is helping with."

"Sounds like your sister has lost herself."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked, her brows furrowing together slightly.

"Before my mum died, she told me that no matter whom I marry, don't ever lose myself. I've always believed that she meant I should never forget or ignore the parts of me that make me who I am. She taught me to cook, to sew, and to love music, while my dad taught to take apart an engine; each of those things form the larger picture that is me. The point is, Quinn, I think maybe your sister has let her husband and maybe his family pick and choose who she is. And I think that maybe you need to help Frannie find herself again."

"I like that." The young woman replied. "Your mom sounds like a smart woman and the best kind of mom. I hope I will be just as good as she is."

"You will be, Quinn. Love and a little bit of patience will go a long way. All you need to do is remember that no matter what happens, you will love your baby until it breaks your heart and continue loving it long after."

Quinn laughed, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to stifle some of the louder sounds. "Another pearl of wisdom from your mom?"

"Yeah." Kurt replied; his mouth quirking up slightly as he remembered his mum—the way she was before the cancer had stolen her. "You're going to do fine, Quinn. This is just a tiny bump in the road and I know that you will pull through it."

"Thank you, Kurt." Quinn said, biting her lower lip lightly as she tried to form the words for what she wanted to…no needed to say. "I want to apologize. I had no right to say what I said about you or spread those awful rumors about you. I was just so mad at Finn, and I thought the best way to get back at him was to hurt you…someone that I knew he loved. Because the moment I met you, I knew that Finn Hudson loved you."

"How could you tell?" Kurt interjected, curious at her answer. He might be married to Finn, but that man was an enigma to him.

"Because he married you." Quinn replied. "Finn wouldn't have married without love. He's not that kind of guy."

Kurt gazed at the young woman, letting his eyes take in the honesty and sincerity in her face and in her eyes. It was her eyes that he focused on, reading her true feelings in their depths; after all, the eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul, right. "Thank you, Quinn, for apologizing. And I get it, I understand. I probably would have done the same thing. So, let's start over. I'm Kurt Hummel."

Quinn raised an eyebrow at the Englishman, who had stuck his hand out, waiting for her to shake it. Grasping tightly in her own, she shook it firmly, imitating the handshake of her father. "Quinn Fabray."

"It is very nice to meet you, Miss Quinn Fabray." Kurt responded then letting the handshake fall. With a mischievously grin on his face, Kurt posed his next question to her. "Want to be friends?"

Quinn giggled again, but this time not bothering to cover her mouth. It had been a while since she had felt like this, and she was going to enjoy and to hell with the town seeing her behavior. It wasn't like they didn't already know about her _wanton_ _behavior_—which her parents couldn't go more than an hour without chastising her for—she was heavy with child and the whole world could see. And Quinn was passed the point of caring what others thought.

"I'd like that, Mr. Kurt Hudson. Now about my sister's Christmas gift?"

"A girl after my own heart." Kurt said, clutching his hand to his heart. "Now, come, my dear. We have a present to find." Kurt declared as he led Quinn towards the small—yet richly stocked—art section of the store.


	6. Chapter 5

**AN: **I want to give a huge thanks to **BlackShadow 65**, **ampersandandi****nk**, **Crimson Glory Kai**, **Azrael Blood**, and **Sarahamanda** for their wonderful reviews. And to everyone else who is following this story-and I have some idea who you are. *grin*

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

Spring was upon them, the flowers were blooming and Carole was trying her hand at teaching Rachel and Kurt to garden. Well the lessons seemed to be working for Kurt, but not so much for Rachel, who even after the 2nd hour with her hands in the dirt continued to scream at the mere sight of an earthworm. The Hudsons had found it amusing in the beginning; however, now it was grating on their nerves and Kurt looked as though he was going to maim her with his garden spade at any moment.

Patting Kurt's shoulder sympathetically as she stood, Carole wondered towards the back porch to grab another packet of seeds. But movement out of the corner of her eye caused her pause, turning on her heel to round the side of the house, searching for the source. The sight…or rather the person made her freeze briefly before she emitted a small cry of joy and swept the soldier into a tight hug. At the sound of older woman's cry, Kurt and Rachel ran, worried that maybe something had happened to the older woman. Rachel gasped at seeing the man in Carole's arms; he was paler than when he had left but in her eyes he looked uninjured and beautiful.

Kurt stood back as Carole and Rachel welcomed Noah home; he had known the Canadian briefly but not enough to warrant hugging the man. Instead Kurt settled for waving at Noah, his eyes following as Rachel engulfed Noah in a hug once Carole had released him. From where he stood, Kurt could hear faint whispers of 'It's alright,' 'I'm home,' and 'There's no need to cry anymore,' as the words flowed from the young soldier's mouth.

Pulling back from Rachel, he cupped her face as he brushed away her tears with his thumbs. "Will you marry me? I wanted to ask before I left, but you were so far gone over Finn and I knew that I couldn't compete with that. So I promised myself that I'd wait, go to war and hopefully come back the kind of man you could love."

"Oh, Noah. Of course I'll marry you. I've just been waiting for you to ask."

Noah's eyebrows rose slightly at Rachel's statement, "What about Finn?"

The young woman's face softened at the look of puzzlement across the Jewish man's face. "Finn was the safe choice. I always knew, he would never break my heart, even if he didn't pick me. But you…you were wild, unpredictable, and I knew deep down that if you didn't want me, it would have destroyed me."

Noah's resulting smile looked as though it was going to split his face in two. Laughing loudly, he pulled Rachel forward, laying a kiss upon her lips that spoke volumes. It was only the sound of a throat clearing that caused the pair to separate. Rachel beamed sheepishly at Carole and Kurt, her cheeks reddening slightly at having allowed them to witness such a display, but Noah simply smirked at the Hudsons.

"Noah, does your mother know you're home?" Carole asked, rolling her eyes at the young man. In all her years, Noah Puckerman was never going to change.

He had always been one of those boys, who trouble seemed to follow; but was really a sweet boy at heart. His life hadn't been the easiest, his dad had left town a few months after his sister, Sarah, had been born and his mother had been forced to get a job to make ends meat. It had been different in those days, Christopher had still been alive and Carole had gladly offered to watch Sarah during the day. She had missed having a baby in the house, and Finn was getting too old to be babied as she would have liked. So during the days, she would watch Sarah; in the afternoons, Noah would join Finn on his walk home from school; and in the evenings, the Puckermans would join them for dinner before Mrs. Puckerman took the children home. And the arrangement had worked for many years, and Carole kind of missed it; but those days were long passed them now.

Noah grinned at his best friend's mother. "Yeah, I saw Sarah, before I went over to Rachel's. Her Aunt Shelby pointed me in this direction." Noah explained, his voicing breaking through the memories replaying themselves in Carole's head.

Carole smiled at the young man; Noah was very much a family oriented person, even if he didn't like to admit it. "Well come into the house and seat a while. I've got some honeyed lemonade in the icebox."

"Honeyed lemonade?" Noah wondered out loud.

"Sugar is rationed, but I can get honey." Carole explained. "Creative cooking is what I call it."

Noah smiled at Carole as he gripped Rachel's hand, tugging her towards the kitchen with Kurt following behind at a sedate pace, allowing the Englishman to see why Noah had been sent home. While the limp wasn't as pronounced as it could have been; it still came with a medical discharge from the army.

Sighing to himself, Kurt tried to hold the hurt in. While he was happy for Rachel and Noah, he couldn't help but feel that it was all a bit unfair. He was the one that was married; he was the one, who was missing his husband; and so it only stood to reason the he should be welcoming his husband home right now. Kurt rolled his eyes at his pettiness and gave himself a mental head-slap before bounding up the stairs to where Carole was waiting with the backdoor open.

Carole squeezed Kurt's shoulder as he passed, as though she knew what was going on his mind. Winking at the woman, Kurt wondered into the kitchen to get glasses for everyone while Carole retrieved the lemonade from the icebox. After setting everything on the table, the Englishman slid into a chair across from Rachel and reached over to give her free hand a small squeeze before releasing it. Rachel beamed at Kurt—the smile stretched across her face hadn't disappearance since Noah's proposal. She was a girl in love, and Kurt was happy for her. He truly was; everyone deserved to find that kind of happiness and love.

After their glasses were filled with Carole's delicious lemonade and everyone had settled into their seats, Noah leaned closer to the table as he slid a battered looking envelope to Kurt. "I assured my boy that I would get this to you."

Kurt's fingers itched to grab the letter and disappear to his room with it; but he didn't want to be rude. Instead, he reached out and grasped it, plucking it off the table and into his lap. As he did so, he couldn't help but notice the look of disappointment on Carole's face at there being a letter for him yet not her.

Although it would seem he wasn't the only one to take notice; for not a moment later, Noah reached into his jacket pocket again and pulled a second envelope. "Finn didn't forget about you, Mrs. H." The young soldier said as he pressed the letter into her hand. Carole breathed a faint sigh of relief at the weight of the letter in her hand, smiling brightly at boy-turned-man.

"Now that everyone is happy and lettered. Anyone want to fill me in on the latest town gossip?" Noah grinned at his joke, earning a head shake and an eye roll from Kurt for how bad it was.

"Quinn gave birth almost a week ago to a healthy baby boy, named Samuel." Rachel gushed, unable to hold her excitement in.

"Which is apparently also the name of the baby's father." Kurt cut in with.

"Who showed up for the birth," Rachel finished.

Noah watched the pair, his eyes drifting back and forth to Rachel and Kurt as they passed the story back and forth between them. "That's rich. How did the Fabrays' take it?"

"Pretty well, once Mr. Fabray calmed down, and stopped trying to kill the man." Kurt stated his matter of fact tone. "Sam's a nice guy, a little misguided at times; but their wedding is set for June. And Quinn is, of course, over the moon."

"They are so sweet together. I'm happy for her; plus, she's asked Brittany and me to be her attendants." Rachel remarked, bouncing lightly in her chair in excitement. "And Kurt's been asked to help plan her wedding dress."

"So a lot has happened since your last letter, Rach." Noah commented, before taking a sip of his lemonade. The young brunette beamed at her fiancé, happy that he had been reading her lengthy letters. Although, he had assured her he had been reading them all—every single word—Rachel still wondered at times if Noah had been lying to save her feelings, obviously he hadn't been.

"How was he…when you left?" Kurt asked. He hadn't wanted to be rude to Noah and Rachel, but he needed to know and Carole was probably the same way as he, trying to wait patiently for the pair to leave so she could rip Finn's letter open.

Noah chuckled at Kurt's question, not necessarily at the anxiousness in the man's voice, but for the fact that he managed to wait as long as he did. "He looked fine, a little upset that I was going home. But he knew that I was no use to the Canadian Army anymore."

Kurt's mouth formed a grim line as he took in Noah's explanation. "Oh."

"Cheer up, Hummel. The Americans have a plan and I have feeling that this fight won't last for much longer; then your boy will be home and you can be sickeningly sweet again, just like you were in London."

Kurt huffed at Noah's assessment of his relationship with Finn. "You should become a comedian, Puckerman." Kurt told the man, making a point to use his last name, just as Noah had used his.

"I know." Noah smugly told Kurt, earning an eye roll in reply. "My commanding officer told me on a daily basis."

Rachel giggled at the young man, causing Carole to tilt her head in question at the young woman's behavior, but not saying anything about it. She had been that young and that in love with Christopher once; so she could understand why Rachel was acting like a love-sick fool.

Glancing away from Noah and towards her watch, Rachel let out a small sound at realizing what the time was. "I have to go; my dads are expecting me home."

"I'll come with you, Rach." Noah told the woman as he stood as well. "I still need to ask for your hand, properly."

"You didn't ask?" Rachel exclaimed—her voice rising slightly in pitch—in shock.

"Neither one of your dads were home, just your Aunt Shelby. And I couldn't ask her, and run the risk she would tell your dads, I want to do this right."

Kurt snorted at the last bit of his statement, causing Carole to faintly tapped him on the arm as she gave him a look of reproach. "Sorry." Kurt mumbled, looking a tad bit sheepish under Carole's stare.

"I want to this right, even if I did ask you before I got your dads' permission." Noah finished explaining. "Besides, if you said yes and your dads said no, I hoped you be able to help change their minds."

Rachel grinned, attempting to keep her laughter in, at hearing Noah's explanation. "Never change, Noah. Come on, I'll give you a lift back to town. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Love too." Noah replied, holding his arm out from Rachel to take. Noah escorted the brunette out of kitchen, calling out a goodbye to Kurt and Carole. The Hudsons returned the goodbye with one of their own, as they watched the pair leave.

After hearing the front door close, Kurt looked at Carole, who was looking at him. As if in silent agreement, they quickly cleaned the kitchen and disappeared to their separate corners of the house with letters in hand.


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: **Last chapter people. This story is finished! I'm so happy that you've enjoyed it. And a special thanks goes to everyone that has been following me on this slightly insane ride through World War II.And a special thanks goes out to **ampersandandink** for guilting me into getting this chapter edited and posted.

(http:/lilgirlost(.)tumblr(.)com/post/13654506036) I made some art for this chapter. The letter will make sense, more sense, if you take a look.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Kurt,<em>

_Sorry about the stains, Artie dropped his coffee (if you call it that) on it and then it got wet during the last rainstorm. Who knew that Italy would be this cold in the winter. Always thought it would be much warmer, that's how it seems in the pictures. Thanks for the socks, the rest of my unit was jealous. I miss you and I hope this war is over soon._

_I glad that you're enjoying your job with Mr. Haley, it's good that you've found something to keep you busy. It's good to keep busy. I hate the idea of you sitting around worrying about me. Sorry…feels like I say that alot in my letters but I have to cut this short we're moving soon._

_Stay safe Kurt and I'll try my best too, as well._

_All my love,_

_Finn_

_XXXXX_

_P.S. Artie drew you a bird to say sorry about the large coffee stain._

**Chapter Six**

Summer passed quickly for Kurt, in a flurry of wedding preparations, days working at the garage, weekends spent helping Carole tend their small garden, and time spent with friends. For once, Kurt couldn't complain that life was dull or mundane, like he would have before Canada. He had loved his dad, London and his life in England, but it just became so repetitive, especially after a lot of his friends had left London for safer parts of the country—the North of Wales came to mind for some reason.

At the end of June, Quinn was married and was off to spend a few days on her honeymoon with Sam; leaving their small son in the care of her older sister, Frannie, who had come from Seattle for the wedding and had stayed after for just that purpose. As for Rachel and Noah's wedding, they had decided to wait until Finn's return, so he could return the favor and stand as Noah's best man.

July arrived bringing with it unbearable heat that had Kurt wishing that winter had never left Victoria. And he had told Carole as much, causing the older woman to laugh at his cheek and assure him whole-heartedly that he wouldn't melt before autumn came. Kurt knew the weather wouldn't have been so unbearable, if he didn't spend such long hours under the hoods and carriages of various cars. Harley's garage was filled with nothing but hot stale air and the sounds of tools against machinery, and Kurt relished the moment when he was done for the day, and could finally go home—where nine times out of ten, Carole would find him sprawled on the living room floor under the ceiling fan, when she came in from work.

And Kurt was in complete rapture when the heat wave broke and ushered in autumn. The trees turned to reds and yellows, and the late night air held a faint chill. It was on those nights, when the air was chiller than usual, that Kurt would grab a blanket and lay under the stars. Sometimes, Carole would join him, but most times she wouldn't. The first time he had done it, Carole had asked why and he had told her that he had never really been able to enjoy the stars in London due to the fog and its tall buildings, and Carole had simply patted him on the arm before disappearing back into the house.

"Carole?" Kurt called out as he entered the house. "I got the apples you needed for the tarts. And are you absolutely sure that we need to go to the Halloween party. Couldn't we just drop off the food and then runaway?"

Carole's voice could be heard from the kitchen, laughing at her son-in-law's question. "No we can't. Besides, the apple tarts were your idea, as I recall, something about making them at Halloween for your local parish."

"I have bad news, Carole," Kurt said gravely, as he came to stand in the open doorway of the kitchen. "I lied. Shocking, I know, but I'm big fat liar."

Carole laughed again at Kurt, rolling her eyes in exasperation of him. "Get in here and help. Or I won't let you have any."

"Well, maybe I don't want any." Kurt replied, placing his freehand on his hip as he gazed at his mother-in-law.

"Liar."

"I told you, I'm a big fat liar." Kurt repeated, grinning at Carole. "Now, where should I start?"

"You can start with washing and peeling the apples. I've almost finished with the crusts."

Kurt nodded at the woman, beginning the task of washing and peeling the apples as requested. The pair worked in silence; each focused on their own part of tart making. Once the apple filling was finished, Kurt spooned them into their crusts, dropping a few 1 cent pieces as he went. The idea was for the children to find the coins as a prize when they ate the tarts. Kurt had always loved that part of the holiday when he was kid, finding the money and then later spending it on something he wanted.

Once the tarts were out of the oven, Kurt offered to pack them for Carole, so she could go and change before the party. After he was finished, Kurt followed a few minutes later; although, he wore coveralls at the garage, Kurt still felt dirty when he came home. Tugging off his suspenders as he took the stairs two at the time, Kurt's first stop was the bathroom to wash off the worst of the grime.

Half an hour later, the pair left the house for a night of bewitching games, good food, and pleasant company, which Kurt was certain was going to be a lot more entertaining than last year, especially with the presence of Noah Puckerman. Kurt had thought the man, loud-mouth and brash when he had known him briefly in London. And in the months since the man's homecoming, it turned out that Kurt hadn't been so wrong in his opinion, yet it would seem there were more layers to Noah Puckerman then Kurt had ever imagined, which explained why Finn was friends with the Jewish man.

And it turned out that Kurt was right about Noah Puckerman; he had turned out to be life of the party, regaling the children as well as the adults with some crazier stories involving his platoon, especially Finn. Kurt had laughed right along with the stories, but it was with a heavy heart. He could stop the guilt filling his heart as he enjoyed the holiday, while his husband was experiencing god only knew. And as the night continued, Kurt pushed those thoughts and his guilt to the back of his mind—finding joy in the company of his friends, laughing as Blaine tried to bob for apples and failed and _aww-ing _with the rest of the room when Sam pulled Quinn into an impromptu spin around the room.

However, by the time Carole and Kurt had left the party, the guilt and the worry was back, pressing down on Kurt's shoulders. While his thoughts were never far from his father and Finn, he couldn't stop the guilt of being so far removed from the war. Although the war was front page news in the papers, it served as more space filler then actual news. Everyone had someone fighting in Europe or India—whether it was a brother, a son, a husband, or a father—they focused on their soldier and not really the outcome of the war. Sure, Kurt wanted the Allied forces to tramps across Hitler and his stupid mustache; but what he really wanted was Finn home, safe and sound.

Shaking his head to clear those thoughts, Kurt refocused his attention back on driving Carole and himself home from the Halloween party. Once safely home, the pair separated with light kisses on the other's cheek. Kurt was itching to finish his letter to Finn before crawling into bed to reread some of Finn's letters. As he drifted off to sleep that night, Kurt couldn't help but send a silent prayer to whoever listening that Finn would be home soon.

The winter of '44 came far too quickly in Kurt's opinion, causing him to beg for forgiveness to the weather gods for ever blaspheming the heat wave in July. At one point, Kurt even went as far as trying to do the equivalent of a rain dance, for warmth. Carole had almost died laughing at the man, before sending him off to work. He had left the house with a small grumble, not relishing the fact that heat in the garage was on the fritz. Harley promised to have it seen to, yet Kurt wasn't holding his breath in the slightest. Instead, he bundled up, wearing a scarf and fingerless gloves with his coveralls, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Harley when the older man had seen him.

"Does wearing the scarf, really help?" Harley asked as he took in Kurt with his grease-stained coveralls and brightly knitted scarf.

"It keeps my neck warm, if that is what you are wondering." Kurt replied, pulling his head out from under the hood and glancing at his boss.

Harley's eyes narrowed at Kurt's answer; deciding the younger man's cheek didn't need a vocal response. Kurt flashed a full-toothed grin at Harley, before ducking his head back under the sedan's hood. As he went back to work, Kurt could faintly hear the older man walked away, no doubt returning to the car he had been working on.

It might have been fifteen or twenty minutes later when Kurt heard his name being called. He grumbled under his breath at being interrupted again; all he wanted to get this car finished—the quicker he finished the quicker he could get home and warm up again. Pushing away from the car, he rounded the side facing the front office and walked towards the sound of Harley's voice. The mechanic appeared to be talking exciting to someone, which was very strange for Harley—the garage owner was not known for being excited…about anything.

"Harley. I would really like to get this car finished, and I can't do that if you keep interrupting me." Kurt called out, not bothering to wait until he was in front of the older man to speak.

"Just come here, I think you'll like what I have to show you." Harley yelled back, rolling his eyes in annoyance of his part-time mechanic. Kurt was hard worker and good at his job, but sometimes his personality and flair for the dramatic annoyed Harley to no ends.

"This better be important," Kurt called out. "because this car stands between me and freed…" Kurt continued before his voice trailed off as he eyes took in the young soldier standing next to Harley. He stumbled slightly, tripping over his own feet, as his hands reached for the soldier, and luckily the soldier was quicker, hands grabbing Kurt's arms to stop him from pitching forward. Tears were streaming down Kurt's face as he grabbed a hold of the soldier's broad shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

"Oh god, you're here…you're really here." Kurt mumbled, his face pressed into the man's army green uniform. Kurt felt the man's hands wrap around his body, resting on the small of his back. Kurt breathed in the scent of his husband, letting the smell of day old sweat and the unique scent of Finn wash over him.

"I'm home, love." Finn murmured in Kurt's ear then placed a light kiss behind the smaller man's ear. "I'd hope to surprise you at home, but when Blaine met me at the dock, he told me that you were working today."

"Blaine knew?" Kurt asked, looking up at Finn with the faintest amount of hurt in his eyes.

As Finn returned his husband's gaze, he noticed the slight hurt in his husband's light blue eyes and quickly explained. "I wanted to surprise you and mom, so I needed to have someone pick me up; otherwise, I would have had to walk home…in the cold." Finn said, pouting a little when he mentioned the cold.

Kurt giggled at Finn's pout, tugging at the other man's collar, brushing it down and straightening it, just to give his hands something to do. "Well, we can't have that."

Finn smiled brightly at Kurt. "Harley, can I take him home?" Finn shouted to the garage owner, who had slinked out of sight during their emotional homecoming.

"Yeah, take him home. He's going to be no use to me for the rest of the day." Harley yelled back, closing the hood of the sedan Kurt had been working on. "I'm expecting him back next week, Hudson. And he better be able to walk."

Kurt's face heated up, turning beet red his boss's remark, causing Finn to laugh at the comment and the redness in his husband's face. "We'll see about that, Harley."

"You'll see nothing, Hudson." Harley grumbled, unable to keep a grin off his face. "Your husband is a good worker, one of my best. And I expect him back. You can't keep him, Hudson, just because you're home now." Although Kurt rolled his eyes at Harley, he couldn't stop the small grin on his face at the praise he received—Harley wasn't one to give praise, only criticism.

Finn lightly jostled Kurt, trying to get the slender man's attention; once he had it, he began walking towards the shop door with his husband still in arms. However, the Englishman was having none of it, especially when he dug his heels into the shop's floor. "No…Finn…wait!"

Finn looked down at the blue eyed man, his brow furrowing in confusion as to why Kurt was telling him to stop. At seeing the look of confusion in the soldier's eyes, Kurt explained. "I need to change. I'm not going home in these greasy coveralls. What will the town think?"

"They'll think that you are overjoyed that I'm home, and could care less about how your clothes look." Finn responded, smirking. Kurt snorted in reply before pulling away from the taller man and disappeared to quickly change his clothes.

As Finn made to follow him, a grunt came from across the shop, causing him to pause and turn towards the noise. "Employees only, Hudson." Finn frowned at the older man, but stayed put as he waited for Kurt to reappear.

"Ready," Kurt said, grasping Finn's hand in his own as he came to stand beside the taller man. "I'll see you next week, Harley."

"Holding you too it, Hudson." Harley muttered, watching as Finn all but dragged Kurt out his garage.

"So how are we getting home, Finn?" Kurt asked as the pair walked down Main Street, towards the outer limits of Victoria.

Finn glanced down at Kurt. "Blaine's letting us borrow his dad's car."

The Englishman smiled at Finn, tugging on their joined hands as he crossed the street and towards the Andersons' car. "Your mum is still at work and won't be home for a few hours, whatever shall we do?" Kurt asked innocently, as they climbed into the car with Finn at the wheel.

The Canadian smirked at his English partner, happy that Kurt's mind had gone exactly where he wanted it to go. "I can think of a few things." Finn said, his voice dropping in pitch before pulling Kurt into a kiss, tongue searching and teeth nipping as he set about to relearn his husband's mouth.

Moments later Kurt pushed the man away, needing to breathe and slightly embarrassed that he was allowing Finn to snog him the Andersons' car, especially in full view of Main Street. "Finn, we can't. Start the car and take us home."

Usually the drive home was short, but Finn managed to make unbearably long, considering how he couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself; with one hand on the wheel, the other slowly crept up his husband's thigh, stopping only inches from the rising tent in Kurt's trouser.

Kurt squirmed in his seat, glaring at Finn all the while. He had managed to survive the last three years with only his right hand for company, but it would seem that his body wasn't willing to wait…and neither was Finn. Grasping the wondering hand, Kurt moved it from his body, entwining it with his own, before giving Finn a smug grin. Finn's eyes shifted from the road and towards Kurt's face then to his trapped hand. Tugging on it firmly, he tried to pull his hand from Kurt's grasp, yet the other man held firm. The Englishman wasn't going to allow his husband to tease him, especially if he couldn't follow through with it then and there.

It was only when they were finally stopped in front of the house did Kurt released his hold on Finn's hand, allowing him to shift the car into park. Opening the back passenger door, Kurt grabbed Finn's duffle, ready to take into the house; yet, Finn's hand wrapping itself around his own stopped him. After taking the pack from Kurt and grabbing his hand, Finn mounted the stairs of his childhood home, eager to cross the threshold of his home after having been gone for so long. Pushing the door open, Finn paused in the doorway, allowing his eyes to drift around the living room, taking in all of the changes since the last time he had been here. And Kurt waited quietly, understanding that the soldier needed time to become familiar with his home again.

After he crossed the threshold, Finn dropped his duffle on the floor and swept Kurt into his arms, bridal style, earning a squeal of surprise from Kurt. Finn chuckled at the sound, spinning a little, as he made his way towards the stairs. Kurt wrapped his hands around Finn's neck, gripping the collar; he knew that Finn wouldn't drop him, but it didn't stop him from holding on, simply because he could.

"We aren't exactly newlyweds, Finn." Kurt remarked, grinning into his husband's face. Finn responded with a simple brush of his lips against Kurt's cheek.

It wasn't until they were outside the bedroom door did Finn give an actual answer to the Kurt's question. "Aren't we?" Pressing a kiss to his partner's lips, Finn pushed the door open with his foot.

"We're newlyweds to this house." He told the Englishman as he walked through the door.

As he dropped Kurt on the bed, he murmured. "We're newlyweds to this bed." The blue eyed man laughed at the earnest look on Finn's face before pulling him closer to kiss it away. Finn could be so serious and yet be so silly at the same time; it was part of his charm and one of the reasons Kurt had found himself drawn towards the Canadian. Even in a hellish place London had become, Finn could still find happiness in some of the most mundane things. And it had never failed to make Kurt smile at the man.

Once he broke the kiss, Kurt's hand wondered across the clothed chest, yanking at the buttons of Finn's shirt. The soldier watched as Kurt fumbled with the little pieces of brass, tugging at them when they wouldn't go back through their holes. Grabbing Kurt's hands, Finn pushed them away, opening his shirt with a flick of his wrist.

Licking his lips, Kurt watched with lust-filled eyes as his husband's tanned skin was revealed inch by beautiful inch. It had definitely been too long for both of them. Climbing off the bed, Kurt stepped closer, his fingertips wondering across the muscle defined chest. He felt Finn's breath catch as his finger circled around an exposed nipple before tugging on it. Finn was leaner than Kurt remembered and had a few more scars, but the Canadian was still as beautiful as the first time the Englishman had seen him on their wedding night.

Later when he had more time, Kurt planned to trace every new scar to memory; yet right now, he simply wanted to feel a connection—a connection he hadn't felt in years—to his husband. Deciding to take a page from Finn's book, Kurt started on his own shirt, tugging it off as he watched Finn get rid of his military issued trousers. The mechanic grinned at his husband before opening his own trousers and pushed them down his slender hips, his shoes, socks and drawers quickly following.

Once naked before Finn's dark brown eyes, Kurt fell back upon the bed, his hands reaching out to Finn. The soldier grasped on of Kurt's hands in his own, placing a kiss on each of knuckle before draping his body on Kurt's. A small grunt passed through Kurt's lips at the contact; it had definitely been far too long since Kurt had felt Finn's body on his. His husband wasn't heavy, per say, he was just big; Kurt couldn't help but laugh softly at the innuendo.

At seeing the perplexed look in Finn's gaze, Kurt saved himself the trouble of having to answer by wrapping his hand around the soldier's length. Finn gave a moan at the sensation; Kurt's hand felt different from his own, different size, different calluses, and a different strength in his grip and it was perfect. Bending his head, Finn caught his lover's mouth with his own, swallowing the faint gasp as his hand reached down and stroked the hardening member. Like Kurt, Finn knew this moment wasn't going to last very long and yet it didn't matter. All that matter was finding that connection again, feeling every emotion they had felt together in London.

As they stroked each other towards climax, they traded kisses and murmured words, each enjoying the feel of the other in their arms. Panting slightly, Kurt leaned forward, whispering four words into Finn's ear before catching the other man's mouth in a kiss. As though the words spoken were magic, Finn released a stream of warmth onto Kurt's belly, causing the Englishman to shudder as his own orgasm ripped through his body.

With his energy gone, Finn slumped forward, barely keeping his body from crushing the smaller man beneath him. Reaching his hands out, Kurt grabbed at Finn's shoulders, twisting and pushing the other man to his back. The soldier let out a small huff as his back hit the soft bed, but allowed himself to be manhandled by his husband.

Once he had Finn how he wanted him, Kurt snuggled close, letting the beat of his husband's heart and the warmth of his body soothe him into slumber. Finn smiled softly at the man in his arms, pulling him closer to his body before pressing a kiss into his hair and letting the rhythmic breaths blowing across his neck lull him into sleep.

Finn's official homecoming would come later—after they slept, after they made love again, after they bathed and redress—when Carole was home from work and Rachel, Noah, and Blaine had descended upon the house for dinner. But right now, they were going to enjoy their own private homecoming, which was more than just Finn's. It was Kurt's homecoming as well, for it didn't matter how long Kurt had lived in his husband's home or the number of friends he had managed to make, the Englishman hadn't felt as though Victoria was his home, simply because he was missing the one person to make it home. And now that Finn was here, Kurt could finally think of this place home. While the war might not be over, that didn't matter, for they were both finally where they belonged.


End file.
